


Red Nails

by myprettything



Series: Poly losers club one shots [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT7, Pegging, Polyamorous Losers Club (IT), Polyamory, The Losers Club Love Each Other (IT), Vaginal Fingering, it’s technically hetero because it’s m/f but bev fucks him, stanley gets pegged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myprettything/pseuds/myprettything
Summary: Beverly owns a strap-on for a reason.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Poly losers club one shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791187
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	Red Nails

**Author's Note:**

> hi this fic is months in the work because i was unmotivated but it’s here now because stanley deserves to get pegged <3 (i also began writing this before the pegging trend of tik tok so ugh my MIND) anyways enjoy

Beverly was more than capable of painting her own nails.  
She’d been painting them for somewhere around fifteen years and did so with relative ease, but sometimes there were days like this one where she just couldn’t keep it from making a mess of her fingers, splotches of color staining her skin and pungent smelling polish seeping into the cuticle. And it was frustrating, especially after a day with an 8 am class that was cancelled after she’d arrived on campus and had also received a 75% on a project that was at least B+ worthy.

She stared intently at her pinkish stained hands for a moment, contemplating her options:

She could go to Eddie for help, though as often as he wore nail polish as well and as much as she loved him, he was kind of terrible at it and was not to be trusted with a bottle of any sort of permanent-colored substance. This was especially true if Richie was anywhere to be found, who was another option for help. He too donned painted nails frequently (mostly black or red to sell his whole “punk” thing), but much like Eddie that didn't seem to be a great idea.

And as much as she loved Bill, Ben, and Mike they were pretty clueless when it came to most beauty stuff (though weren’t ones to shy away from partaking in them). 

It was blatantly obvious who could paint her nails better than she could: Stanley.

She stumbled out of her bedroom and into the hallway, feet clad in a pair of Eddie’s shrunken white ankle socks and a thrifted, silky blue nightgown that Mike had found for her on one of their thrifting dates. Stan's bedroom door was directly across from her own, barren of posters and stickers and other decorations they’d eventually have to scrub off when they moved out. The door was closed.

This either meant one of two things, that Stan was napping, which he often did on days where he worked and had classes, or he was studying and doing his homework.

Beverly tapped Stan’s door lightly twice, a moment of silence passed before hearing Stan's smooth voice telling her to enter.

He was sitting at his desk, finance textbook open next to his laptop, highlighter clutched in his right hand with a black pen in his left and sitting cross legged and dressed in a pair of sweats and a ratty old Derry Highschool Football t-shirt he must’ve gotten from Ben's laundry. His hair was slightly messy in the Stan way which meant it still somehow looked perfect. He looked focused on his note taking, jotting down sections of the chapter from his finance textbook, so much so he didn’t even look up to see who it was.

Beverly knew that Stan was always ahead of the syllabus by at least one week in just about every course he was taking. He’d been that way since second grade according to Richie, who’d known him since the beginning of time. Stanley was a sick child and rarely went to school, doing most of his work from the comfort of his bedroom. Richie often recalls their early friendship as “being friends with a boy who was a ghost” (Stanley only smiles fondly at the memories and Richie laughs hysterically along with Bill).

He was also in a seemingly good mood if Richie and Bill’s pillowtalk about their amorous morning was anything to go by.

She passed the threshold of Stan’s room, quietly walking up to his chair and placing her hands on the back of it and resting her palms carefully so she wouldn’t jostle him and whatever he was writing down in his near-perfect script. He reached his right hand up and gently placed it on top of Beverly’s as a silent acknowledgement, his long slim fingers settling over her array of silver rings and scarred knuckles.

“Hey Stanley the manley. You busy?” she asked softly.

“Depends,” he replied, still not looking up from the notebook, “is this you asking me, or someone else asking me? Because those may be different answers.”

Bev’s nose scrunched up in delight, “Hmmm, it’s me asking if that’s any consolation.”

He paused his note taking, swiveling around, chair wheels scraping against the polished wood floor slightly, 

“What’d you need, babylove?”

Beverly blanched for a moment taking in Stan’s casual appearance, he often wore clothing that was designer and expensive. So expensive that it stressed the others out at times thinking about how everyday for work he wore a different Ralph Lauren dress shirt or a pair of gorgeous shoes from Yves Saint Laurent. It was a juxtaposition she greatly appreciated, seeing him soft and warm opposed to his usual perfectly pressed shirts and slacks.

“Can you paint my nails for me? Please? I’m fucking up every nail and it’s stressing me out so much I’m craving a cigarette because I’ve had a bad day too and I’m not in the mo-” Stanley placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a peck on the lips.

“I'll be in your room in five minutes. I just have two paragraphs left of this chapter to finish.”  
She smiled sweetly, kissing him on the cheek and turning around, exiting Stan's pristinely kept room and entering her own which was messy in comparison; fabrics samples and Ben’s laundry and textbooks she’s never even seen before scattered about. She made quick work of organizing her array of knickknacks and clutter, made the bed as best she could, and lit a candle.  
-  
Beverly's bedroom smelled like a cinnamon candle and the distinctly clean scent of Stan's clothing. They sat criss cross on her bed with their knees brushing, warm palms resting against each other as Stan worked on painting Bev’s nails the pretty red color. It reminded him of the cardinals he saw in the spring, and even better reminded him of Beverly herself; warm and bright and pretty.

Distantly, they could hear the commotion of Ben and Mike cooking dinner with Bill undoubtedly in tow so they could dote on him, and Richie playing one of his many David Bowie vinyls through the next wall with Eddie nagging at him to turn it down because ‘there are people studying Richie!’ The feeling of a full home with so much love in it was a little dizzying to Beverly, especially when she hadn’t known what that was like until far too recently. Everywhere she looked was someone she loved so much it hurt, and small moments like this one with Stan where he was quietly painting with a stray curl in his face and tongue poking out between his lips, meant everything to her.

Beverly flicked a fiery strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled a small, private smile,“I'm glad at least one of you is good at painting nails, I'm surprised Rich or Eddie haven’t split it somewhere yet.”

He looked up through his dark lashes, a pinkish blush covering his face but a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips in usual Stan-fashion, “I’m good at everything,” he blew the curl out of his eyes to no avail, “and they probably have, we just haven’t found it yet.”

“Cocky much?” she asked with a quiet smile and a brush of knuckles.

“Have we just met?” he asked through his own smile, the one where his eyes crinkle and a dimple pokes into his left cheek, “because I'm pretty sure we’ve known each other long enough for you to know that.”

A few more minutes passed until he was finally done with the nails, top coat and all (he didn’t do it half assed like she would’ve) and they were lying comfortably in silence with their socked feet tangled, the peachy glow of Beverly's cinnamon candle and fairy lights softly illuminating them with the noise of a happy bunch in the background. The two were facing each other, Stan quietly listening to Bev’s soft humming while he traced circles into her hip with his thumb that was painted to match her own, a soft smile gracing his features with the tenseness that was usually seen nowhere in sight. The soft, almost shy smiles exchanged were reminiscent of the summer they met when they were 13, before the scars appeared on the perimeter of Stan's face and Bev’s cigarette addiction got bad.

Stan had always thought Beverly was beautiful, from the moment they met he’d been intrigued by the way her hair was short and fiery much like she was, nothing like any girl he’d ever met with before. You couldn’t convince Stan that there was a woman more perfect than Beverly Marsh, the first girl he was ever attracted to, but he never felt his opinion was biased. Beverly carried herself in a way that Stan admired; no bullshit. When he was only 14 years old he looked up to her with the tender affection of a first love and ferocity of a best friend and wanted nothing more than to possess some of the courage she did. moments like this reminded him of when she’d knock on his window in the middle of the night and ask to sleep with him nearby. 

Stanley had always felt safe to beverly.

Beverly saw Stanley as a quiet protector, never one for the limelight and confrontation but more than willing to be there for the ones he loved most. It was peculiar to her at first but she grew to love it so much that some days it hurt to be so full of admiration. While he didn’t say a whole lot, it was always something worthy of listening to: a quick-witted barb, a (rare) affection-laced compliment, a quiet reassurance. Beverly often used to wonder how they’d gotten along so perfectly, but she didn’t care to dwell on specifics anymore. They were lucky to have each other from the very beginning.  
Suddenly she leaned forward and locked lips with the blonde boy. The kiss was chaste, nothing more than a few moments of contact but they only pulled apart for a few seconds before they were leaning back in again for another. Stan's manicured hand reached up, gently cupping Beverly's jaw and running his thumb over her plump bottom lip in a silent asking of permission to part them. on instinct, the moment she parted her kiss-swollen lips her hand reached up to card her fingers through the blonde curls she often played with in moments like this. luckily for both of them Stan's quick reflexes enabled him to catch Beverly's small wrist. with a turn of his head he pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of it where her small hand met her wrist in an act of pure affection.

“Your nails are still wet,” he whispered against her lips. she rolled her eyes, rolling herself onto her back with her wrist still in Stan’s gentle grasp. Beverly craved the feeling of touching someone while she was kissing them, she couldn’t go without it it seemed. Tightly gripping their clothing or playing with their hair or raking her nails over their skin; she needed to do it.

“That's not the only thing that'll be wet if this continues.”

Stan let out a laugh, a dorky one too before quieting again, flush hot on his cheeks, “Oh really?”

Beverly let out a noise that sounded a lot like a ‘mhm’ before sitting up and carefully maneuvering herself to straddle Stan’s lap. she leaned in, heat radiating between her legs and speaking in a hushed tone, “I promise not to touch.”

Stan, with curls splayed around his head like a golden halo, gripped both of Beverly's wrists tightly in one hand, the other reaching up, leaving feather-light touches across her exposed chest. delicately tracing her collarbones and the column of her pale throat with such softness that it was distinctly stan. His fingers soon closed around her throat, gentle enough to allow her to speak but enough that it made want pool in her belly, 

“You want it that badly?”

Beverly's eyes slipped closed as the pressure increased, “Mhm.”

Stan's hand dropped from her neck, wandering up the smooth expanse of her thighs and under the offending garment Beverly was dressed in. The silk pooled where her legs were parted, where she wanted the touch of the pretty boy most. Ever the tease, he passed where she wanted it and he slid his hand further up the smooth, pale skin until he reached her hip which he took hold of with a strong grip before hooking a finger in the waistband of her underwear and letting it snap back in a playful manner.

“How do you wanna do this dove?” he asked, nimble fingers working into the soft flesh of her hips and side, “like this? or... was there something else you had in mind?” 

Beverly sighed and leaned into the touch, wiggling her hips a bit in an attempt to get Stan moving and doing something, but he wouldn’t budge until they knew what they were doing. Stan as a lover was often rough and rarely ever gave them (being richie and bill mostly) an opt out. But Beverly was a different story, not that he wasn’t rough with her because that was just how he was intimate, it was that Stanley never wanted to make her uncomfortable, viewing her pleasure as his main goal.  
Beverly, with parted cherry wine lips that hung open in an attempt to string a coherent sentence and hooded eyes beneath heavy lids, let out a whine. she leaned forward, burying her face into the junction of stan’s neck and shoulder, where his t-shirt was slipping down to expose the smooth alabaster skin and showcase his prominent collarbones. Stan adapted quickly, pulling her hands out from between them into a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable for either but they didn’t seem to mind much, relishing in the closeness Stan usually didn’t care for. Beverly was quiet for a moment before speaking, “God stan, please let me fuck you.”  
Stan was thrown off for a moment, the answer coming from left field. It wasnt that they didn’t have sex like this, it’s just not what he expected on this night in particular, “You sure bev?”

“Yeah I wanna. Get your clothes off,” she whispered into the quiet atmosphere of the warm room, pressing a lingering kiss to the skin she was resting against.  
Beverly sat up, carefully releasing her hands from Stan’s grasp and reaching over to her bedside drawer to retrieve a half empty bottle of cherry lube (as per request of richie obviously) and avoiding the other junk to ensure she didn’t chip the meticulously painted nails. Stan sat up, stripping himself of his t-shirt and unclipping the star of david that hung in the center of his chest, laying it gently next to the lamp. he folded the t-shirt as he stood and placed it on the edge of the bed before quickly undoing the knot of his sweatpants and sliding them off his long legs, folding the garment quickly as well before settling himself against the pillows once again. bev watched quietly, observing the pretty boy with little more to her expression than a fond smile. She’d seen Stan like this millions of times, at the quarry swimming when they were young, and now even more frequently that they were all together. She still felt a thrill every time.

Stan watched Beverly right back as she rummaged through the drawer and rid herself of the silky nightgown carefully, leaving her in only a white lingerie set she’d made herself a few months ago. Stan wasn’t coy. if anything he took pride in how he was admired. But being watched by someone; being put on display for them, never failed to excite him just a little and make his cheeks burn with slight embarrassment. Her auburn curls fell past her shoulders, shiny and perfect to run your fingers through, she was covered in the cutest freckles and wore a soft smile laced with mischief. Stanley thought another woman would never look as beautiful as she did in that moment.

“Open yourself up.” she said coolly, sitting back on her feet. Stan shimmied out of the confines of his Calvin Klein briefs, folding them and tossing them to his stack of clothes in favor of getting his hands on the lube with a slight grimace at the cherry flavoring. The feeling of being put on display for Beverly was one like no other, deep blue eyes watching him in a way that wasn’t at all judgemental but devoted and wanting. It amplified his arousal, being totally naked and vulnerable in front of her while she was still wearing her underwear and sitting a good distance away from him, in order to heighten the feeling of humility Stan was suddenly overcome with.  
He popped open the cap of the lube, drizzling it over two fingers and scooting himself down the bed to lie back on his right elbow with his legs propped open in an act of seduction. Beverly sat a little bit out of reach between his legs, taking in every visual Stan offered. Stanley always made a point of putting on a show, dilerbate fluid movements and the intense eye contact, along with his confidence and overall beauty made for a show worth paying attention to.

With dark eyes locked on Beverly's blushing face, Stan slipped his left hand between his legs, lightly brushing over the pink hole there with his slick middle finger and emitting a small gasp. Beverly broke their stare, eyes flickering down and watching as Stan circled his long finger once before pressing in, this act doing nothing to stop the darkening wet spot on the front of her white, lacey panties. He pressed in further until his middle finger was fully inside, chest splotchy and cock twitching at the slight stretch. Beverly reached forward, settling her hand on Stan's smooth thigh and dragging her nails over the area enough to leave slight red marks in their wake. Stan keened, and began thrusting his finger in and out of himself at a lazy but precise pace. It wasn’t much longer before he slipped in another, pausing for only a moment before setting back to the same pace yet again.

“You’re doing so well babe, look so pretty,” Beverly mumbled before leaning forward to kiss at Stan's shoulder, playfully biting and sucking and making Stan whine quietly in the back of his throat.  
His cock sat neglected on his stomach, aside from the slight brushing of the pad of her thumb on the underside of the head that Beverly teased him with while she watched him slip in a third finger. He worked all three into himself at a mild pace, throwing his head back and letting his mouth hang open slightly, knowing Beverly's eyes were trained on him. He didn’t make much noise but he never did, his insane amount of self control aiding his poised persona. Through the foggy lust clouding his mind and Bev's soft praises he could barely make out the sound of starman playing from the next room, he slipped his fingers out and made a noise of discontent.  
His dark golden curls were beginning to stick to his forehead with perspiration, his bottom lip was drawn between his teeth, and his pupils were blown with unmistakable lust.

Beverly began shuffling through the same drawer, filled with toys of every size and for every occasion. she gripped the strap on carefully and began fastening it to herself, slipping her legs through the loops and tightening it so it fit snug around her pelvis. Stan watched with rapt attention, eyes locking on small hands adorned with pretty rings and pretty red nail polish as they slicked the strap-on with the sickeningly-too-cherry lube. In turn she made a show of stroking it, long deliberate strokes at a slow pace that made his toes curl imagining how it would feel to have those same hands on him. Stanley Looked up through his lashes, batting them twice before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.  
“You gonna give it to me good bev? Make me beg for it?” he breathed quietly, holding the eye contact intensely, “Are you gonna make me cry?”

Bev could do nothing but feel a shudder of want run down her spine at Stan's newfound dominance in the situation, feeling herself slip all the more into it and falling prey to Stan's game of cat and mouse. Stan’s dirty talk rivaled Richie’s on nights like these and they loved it. She shuffled forward on her knees, fully intending to meet Stan's wishes before she decided that maybe a different approach was needed.

When she was finally close enough to touch the smooth surface of the strap on to Stan's entrance, she did little more than take it in her hand and push with just too little pressure. not enough to breach his waiting hole but enough to cause his stomach to stir and his cock to anticipate the feeling of being full and fucked into the mattress. Stan looked down, glassy eyes watching as the toy poked at his entrance, a moan threatening to escape his mouth at the sight.

“Do you think you deserve it?” she asked quietly into his ear, “Attitude and all and still want it that bad? That’s awfully slutty even for you, Stanley.”  
Beverly watched stan squirm before leaning forward, breathing quietly into his ear, “I’m not fucking you until you ask for it.” with that she reached her right hand forward, taking his leaking cock in her grasp and stroking at an agonizingly slow pace, careful to avoid adding much pressure. The strokes were all futile attempts at pleasure, minimal contact with no true purpose other than to tease. Stan was a lover of teasing and a master of the craft but wasn’t fond being on the receiving end of it. This was quite the role reversal, Beverly often gave into her lover quickly to ensure they were content while he was much more prone to tease with light touches in order to drag it out as long as he could.

Before long Stan was fisting one hand in beverly’s bed sheets and the other traveling up her body, taking residence around her throat again before pulling her down to whisper into her ear, “Bev,” he started quietly, ”fuck me.” 

Stan supposed he could let his resolve crack just this once. It was Beverly after all, and he was sure she’d seen him in much more compromised situations just within the last month. While it went unmentioned, Stanley let himself be totally relaxed around her in a way that he rarely showed to the others. He wondered if it was because their interests, while different, were very alike. Some days Richie would “complain” about Beverly getting “special Stan loving” more than anyone else. Stanley was always quick to shut him down with the explanation that he definitely wasn’t obligated to sleep with any of his partners and that at least Bev had a consistent shower schedule. 

Beverly hummed, “good boy,” she sank forward on her knees and slowly began filling Stan with the bright pink dildo. The stretch wasn’t unusual for Stan, not by a long shot. He’d be one of the few brave enough to dabble in double penetration and was used to bottoming in his rather active sex life, though he couldn’t help the goosebumps that covered his body from head to toe at the sensation of him slowly being filled and the way Bev watched his face carefully. 

Stan, along with the others, loved giving the power to Beverly. She did it perfectly, loved to watch her boys come undone with her strap-on or from where she was seated on their cocks. Stanley loved the dominant glint in her eyes, knew what that feeling felt like and was more than happy to give it to her. She also made it more than enjoyable, knew what made each of them tick and what they liked. Knew that Stan liked some pain, or that Bill wanted to do it from behind, or that Mike loved slow sloppy kisses. 

Once the dildo was as far as it could go Beverly dropped onto her hands, leaning down to pepper kisses across Stan’s face in a way that made him scrunch his eyes in fondness. She traced his cheekbones, nose, even managed a few at the scars on the sides of his face. 

“Okay?”

Stanley didn’t answer, he leaned up onto his elbows, catching Bev’s lips in a kiss, he wasn’t too keen on kisses but her lips were too soft not to. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, languidly rubbing them together and feeling Beverly’s hand come up to grip his clean-shaven jaw between her thumb and forefinger. Stanley made a small movement to pull back, biting Beverly’s lip harshly as he did so. She smiled as he pulled away completely, seeing the redness of where her lip now had the faintest indent of his straight teeth.

He nodded finally, blowing the curl out of his eyes and letting Beverly rise to her knees again. 

“Wait.” 

He reached up, using only one hand, before swiftly undoing the clasp of her bra. He slid it off her shoulders and set it next to him gently (he couldn’t imagine treating an item she made with any amount of disrespect). He then reached his hand forward, kneading her breast softly and watching as she pulled her lip between her teeth and let out a soft moan.

“How do you do that so fast?”

Stan's face gave away little in terms of emotion but she could make out the playful glint in his eyes, “magic.” 

Beverly rolled her eyes with a smile, then suddenly slammed forward, pushing Stanley’s lithe body further into the pink pillows piled at the headboard. He gasped, hands falling down to the sheets immediately to dig his hands into them and scrambling for purchase as Bev set a relatively quick pace. 

Stanley looked like he was enjoying it, mouth hung open and looking delightfully pleasured. Bev leaned forward latching onto the smooth pale skin of where his neck met his shoulder, biting lightly as she continued to move her hips in long thrusts that made Stan want to cry out. Beverly reached her hand forward resting it on Stan’s throat as she continued, she applied the lightest amount of pressure, watching as Stan’s eyes carefully opened to meet hers. He nodded, reaching up and clasping his hand over hers. 

Her grip tightened, not the harshest hold or the biggest hand but it did the trick all the same, making Stan’s heart beat a little quicker. He willed it to go down even though it was impossible for Bev to feel from where she was above him. 

The feeling of being filled and handled rather roughly always did it for Stanley. He basked in the feeling of strong hands pressing hard enough to leave bruises and marks sucked into the pale flesh of his chest, stomach, and thighs. Knew that he’d often come down from his high with red marks on his throat and the light shadowing of fingertip bruises on his hip bones. 

He watched Beverly; the prominent jut of her collarbones, the licks of her fiery hair through the air, the flush of her cheeks, and the light sheen of sweat that covered her body. He loosened his hand from the sheet, bringing it up and letting it grip the curve of her waist. He watched her closely with each thrust, how behind each rough drag of her hips was a loving, watchful gaze.  
Beverly hit his prostate on a particularly hard thrust, “Right there Bev.”

She leaned down again, hips keeping her rhythm as she sank her teeth into the smooth flesh of his collarbone, making Stan groan lightly, deft fingers finding her hair and threading them in rather roughly. Beverly smiled against the flush of Stan’s chest before leaning back and admiring her work. It was dark and almost resembled a heart, the violet and maroon colors standing out starkly on the alabaster canvas. She pressed her finger into it, watching as Stanley’s eyes scrunched a bit and he hissed slightly. 

While Beverly didn’t get any physical pleasure from the act, seeing Stan with lust blown pupils and a lips red and raw from their kisses was more than enough to make her underwear damp. 

She could tell Stanley was getting close, his ragged breathing and parted lips giving him away almost immediately. Beverly pulled out, hearing Stan whine at the loss. He sat up questioningly, panting slightly with a curl stuck to his forehead from perspiration against his hairline. 

Bev pulled at the buckles and flung the toy to the side, Stan was too entranced to be grossed out. She saw his confused look and spoke as she tied her hair back haphazardly, “I want you to finish in my mouth.”

Stan dragged a hand down his flushed face, “You’re going to kill me.” 

“Learned from the best didn’t I?”

He watched her as she moved her way down the bed, taking residence between his long, parted legs. He reached forward, cupping her jaw affectionately before she took Stanley into her mouth carefully. 

She wasn’t Bill, who could deep throat like a champion and give the most mind blowing head in the world, but she did make up for this in other areas. She made a show of it; holding Stanley’s eye contact with the most sultry gaze and pulling her puffy lips away every once and a while to rub circles under the head of his cock. She’d take him into her mouth again, running her tongue along the underside and hearing soft pants come from the parting of Stan’s lips. 

He wiggled against the bed slightly, all his resolve now gone, giving into the pleasure fully and allowing his body to react in the way it wanted to. Beverly grabbed Stan’s hand from its place in her unruly hair, making him grab his own cock. She then ran her tongue over his fingers, leaving his hand with a parting kiss as she took the head into her mouth again. 

She proceeded to swat Stan’s hand away, could tell that he was close again by the way his hips bucked and how his legs slid apart even further. She began stroking him roughly, a bit dry with only her saliva to work with but Stanley could appreciate the roughness of it, the slight sting of the drag of her skin and the coolness of her rings as they moved against his almost painful erection.  
“C’mon baby,” she whispered against where his thigh met his hairless groin, “I know you’re close, just come for me.”

He moaned, beyond turned on by her rough voice and the slick feeling of her hand. It built in the pit of his stomach, hot and burning. He could barely make out the music through the wall now, head fogged with the feeling of it all. He was close, knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it much longer if she continued the ministrations of her hand. 

Beverly then had an epiphany.

”Please sir?” 

It was common knowledge in their household that Stanley had a thing for being called ‘sir’. It came to the point where Richie would over-casually call him in public to embarrass him. He blushed every time without fail, which wasn’t a particularly easy feat when it came to Stanley. He would sputter, his usual poised demeanor gone at the drop of a hat, and would say something along the lines of ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. 

There was an immediate reaction, the toned muscles of his stomach flexed beneath his skin, his fingers tightened within her hair, and his jaw dropped open to let the loudest moan he’d let out all night. Beverly could feel goosebumps arise on the back of her neck at the delightful noise, the motions of her hand quickening between his legs. She watched it all carefully, blue eyes raking over his body quickly so she wouldn’t miss a thing.

He released into her mouth shortly after. Beverly grimaced. Swallowing wasn’t something she was ever a fan on. She quickly leaned across Stan’s limp body and grabbed a kleenex that she then spit into and threw in the trash can on the side of the bed. She fell down against Stanley, wrapping her arms around his neck, which had curls stuck to it at the nape where her fingers interlocked from perspiration.

Stanley basked in the afterglow for a moment but it was never top drawn out, chest rising and falling as the details of his surroundings faded into his consciousness once again. He studied the posters adjacent to the bed, the flicker of the candle’s shadow against the ceiling, and the smell of beef and broccoli wafting throughout the house. He grounded himself, feeling the leftover buzzing of the pleasure under his skin but more subdued now.  
He adjusted himself then, pulling his relaxed body up onto his elbow and resting his head against his fist. He studied Beverly as she rolled onto her back but sticking closely to him, reaching down to pull the blue scrunchie from the contrasting orange of her hair. He tossed it onto the opposite nightstand before reaching down to caress her face, soft strokes across her cheekbones and cupid’s bow and chin. 

Stan leaned down, kissing her softly with a grip on her chin, “Pretty girl.” 

Beverly’s soft look turned to that of a bright smile, raising her hand up to fix Stan’s right eyebrow. They Stared into each other’s eyes for a moment enjoying the momentary stillness. 

It was Stan who reached down and pulled her into another kiss, this one much slower than their last. He nipped at her bottom lip and kissed her in a way that was oddly sweet for Stanley. He could taste himself on her lips. While it was off-putting for some he didn’t mind a bit, in fact he seem to kiss her harder.

While Beverly was wrapped up in the feeling of Stan’s smooth lips his free hand began its mischievous minastrations. He started slowly, circling around one of Beverly’s puffy nipples with just the tip of his finger, nail grazing the pink flesh as their kiss continued, though Beverly’s breath became ragged. He began dragging his finger lower, over the soft plane of her pale stomach, down the center of it, through the soft and groomed hair there, and onto the damp material of her underwear. His finger moved in small circles, taking his time to let her anticipate when he’d finally touch her. 

She whined high in her throat, the sound reverberating deliciously in Stan’s mouth. With skillful fingers and a hint of confidence he slid her panties to the side and slowly stroked between her folds. She gasped, hips bucking up into the touch excitedly. 

All of their lovers could attest to the magic Stanley could do with his fingers, he was well-versed in the art of using your hands for pleasure. He dragged his fingers in circular motions against the bundle of nerves, igniting Beverly’s skin with pins and needles at the feeling. She felt her body become hyper-aware of every stimulus around her; the way the cotton sheets felt against the small of her back, the puffs of air coming from Stan’s nose, the burn of her legs as they tried desperately to open wider. 

She broke away, mouth hanging open and panting now that he’d sped up. She dropped her head to his shoulder, leaning against him, shaking slightly as his body moved in time with the actions of his hand. 

Stanley hummed seemingly pleased with her  
reaction,“more?”

“Please...yes,” She replied, quickly pressing open-mouthed kisses to Stan’s neck and feeling the goosebumps there before her eyes slipped shut in bliss.  
He watched her intently, eyebrows stitched together in concentration. Though he finished merely minutes before he could feel himself physically react to the sight of Beverly. 

She was a sight to behold, Bev’s hair was tousled and framing her face as it draped behind her shoulder, her chest was flushed much like Stan’s was while he was being fucked, the steady rise and fall of her stomach as she took in each breath as a whine or moan.  
Stanley thought she looked heavenly.

He began with one finger, pumping slowly and curved ever so slightly to tease her. She was just as wet and tight as she was the first time Stan had done this. Then they’d been a bit younger and not as well versed in sexual experiences but the sentiment was all the same.  
She’s got her lip in between her teeth now, hips rolling in an attempt to get his fingers where she really wants them but to no avail. A particularly needy whine escapes her throat, “Stanley…” she grits through her teeth, “you’re being a tease.” 

He lets out little more than a hum but suddenly he’s pulling back and sliding three fingers into her. Bev moans high in her throat and her eyes snap shut as her body moves up the bed a bit. Stan watches her carefully for any sign of discomfort but there doesn’t seem to be any, though he keeps his fingers still a little longer. He taps her cheek lightly as a form of non-verbal consent, she shakes her head up and down vigorously. 

It’s tight but not like having a dick (or two) tight so she grows accustomed to the slim fingers rather quickly. He sets a rough pace soon enough, the slick sounds of her wetness mixed with the lube he haphazardly poured onto his fingers as she adjusted. She moans as she takes it, clutching the bed sheets roughly and throwing her head back once Stanley rubs at that spot inside of her repeatedly. 

They continue like this for an indecernable amount of time, Beverly can’t tell if he’s been fucking her for five minutes or twenty five minutes but she’s too wrapped up in it to care if dinner is being eaten without them.  
She reaches down absent mindedly to rub at her clit before Stan stops her firmly, “No.” 

Instead of keeping Beverly from having both he ignores the ache in his arm and presses his thumb to her clit firmly, working in slow but firm circles that contrast the rhythm of his fingers. She gets louder immediately, voice on the verge of breaking as Stan leans down and grazes his teeth along the flesh of her throat and whispers dirty things into her ear. 

It isn’t long after that, she comes with a cry, hips stuttering and hands finding the nearest thing to clutch onto with Stan’s name on her lips something like a prayer.

He pulls his fingers out gently, now covered in her cum, making eye contact as he slips the digits into his mouth. He sucks on his fingers momentarily before releasing them and shoving them between Bev’s parting lips. She’s beyond tired from her orgasm and Stan’s but she accepts them anyways. She sucks on his fingers, tongue dancing between them with what little cognitive ability she has left. She was able to taste the sweetness of herself and the cherry flavoring of the lube and she may be imagining it but she could swear she tasted Stan’s toothpaste. He pulls his fingers away and replaces them with his lips, sharing a languid kiss for a moment before an obnoxiously loud knock sounds on the door. 

Stanley pulls back but doesn’t look away from her, Bev’s eyes shoot to the door but she makes no attempt to get up, “come in Rich.” 

Richie throws open the door carelessly, dressed in the horrific combo of green corduroy pants and a red turtle neck that might as well have been Beverly’s, accompanied by too much jewelry that still somehow worked for him. He’s totally unphased by their state of undress, so much in fact that he saunters into the room and smacks Stan’s ass hard enough to leave the mark of his large hand. Stan hisses sharply before turning onto his back and swatting Richie’s hand away with a grimace. Beverly just grins.

“Dinner was ready like five minutes ago but I bought you some time.” Richie said, winking as he pushed his glasses up his face. 

“Wow how very kind of you.” Stan replied flatly. 

“Lose the ‘tude Stanley.” Richie says as he pats Stanley’s cheek, “From the looks of it you just got fucked pretty good.”

Stanley drags an exasperated hand down his face but he can’t really disagree. Richie raises a hand for a high-five from Beverly but she just chuckles and sits up to push his hand away. 

Richie eyes then both very obviously as he makes his way out of the room, he makes it to the doorway before he speaks again, “I give them two minutes before they go to town on that food so if I were you I’d get a move on before there’s none left. You know how Bill and Eddie are on beef and broccoli nights.” 

He imitates a terrible fart noise with his mouth grossly. Beverly scrunches her nose and flings a pillow at him but Richie’s already got the door shut and is laughing down the hallway. 

They sit for thirty more seconds before getting up and dressing, retrieving their clothing from the floor and slipping on what they were wearing earlier, while sharing private smiles. They head towards the door together, Beverly’s hand on the door handle as she turns to him and speaks, “Try not to limp too hard Hun.” with that she winks and Stanley flushes before following her into the hallway.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: gayclownshrine  
> (pm on tumblr for my other socials)


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